


Scenes from Druidville

by ChelleyPam



Category: Revolution - Fandom, The Iron Druid Chronicles
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:39:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2775035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChelleyPam/pseuds/ChelleyPam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glimpses of Bass' time in An Garran. Backstory for "Strange Bedfellowes"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scenes from Druidville

The bath house was very nice. The town apparently had a thermal spring underneath and the bath house had three main rooms. They were labeled girls, boys and adults. Most people used either the boys or girls, Charlotte explained, but when the grownups wanted some privacy, they used the adults, which was where she put him so he didn't have to worry about curious children.

He took his time in the sunken pool of steaming water. There was a wooden bowl containing a paste made of various herbs that they used as soap. It lathered fairly well and had a clean scent that avoided being too floral. A roughly woven cloths had been left with the towels and helped him scrub the sweat and grime from his skin. He hadn't realized how dirty he'd been until he got clean again. It felt wonderful, and he lathered up and rinsed off too more times just for the pleasure of it before taking some time just to relax in the hot water. It wasn't until there was a knock on the door that he realized he'd fallen asleep.

"Yeah?" He dipped his hands in the water and used it to rinse out his eyes. The door opened and Charlotte came inside. She knelt down on the edge of the pool. Bass grabbed the wash cloth and held it over his junk. 

"Please. I've seen a naked man before. Nudity isn't that big of a deal here."

Bass snorted. "Rachel would love to hear that."

"Still hung up on pre-Blackout morality, huh?"

"Pretty sure it'd be a mom thing."

She shrugged. "Granuaille's not like that."

"I think I need to meet her."

"Get dressed in time for dinner and you will. I'd recommend remembering she's married, though. If she didn't cut your hands off, Atticus would."

Yeah, probably a bad idea to hit on your host's wife. "Did you want something?"

"Just making sure you didn't try and drown yourself." She patted his shoulder. "Glad to see your still breathing. I promised you to the smithy tomorrow." She got to her feet.

"What?"

She made her way to the door. "Everyone chips in here. You look like you've got some muscle to you and rumor is you know your way around a sword. They guys running the smithy could use you. They're bringing the kids in for dinner. You should hear the clamor through the walls when they start washing up. I'll wait outside."

He stared at the door after it shut behind her then shook his head. Ben Matheson had been a gentle man, intelligent and endlessly generous. Rachel was a screwdriver wielding psychopath with a pit viper for a tongue. Charlotte, so far, seemed more like her father. Nature over nurture, he supposed, though since she'd been separated from her family so young he really didn't know what her 'nurture' had been.

He got out of the water and dried off before pulling on the clean clothes she'd found for him. Soft pants that resembled those a martial artist might wear and a tunic style top. They looked like they were made from linen, though he had no idea where they would have gotten their hands on that much flax. There had been some in the areas of the Republic on the edges of cranberry bogs but it took a lot of plants to produce one bolt of cloth and that was usually reserved for bandages, not wasted on clothing. His boots didn't really go with the clothes, but she'd gotten him clean socks. His had been about to the point they could have walked on their own.

True to her assessment, he'd heard the voices of children seeping through the walls from the other two rooms before he'd finished dressing. It sounded like an army of them. He exited the bath house to find Charlotte waiting by a tree with a massive dog. Either an Irish Wolfhound or Deerhound. He wasn't an expert, but the wiry coat and size were a good indicator. She was crouched down giving the dog a belly rub. As he approached the dog came to his feet and studied him curiously. 

"Much better. I didn't realize you were a blond." She grinned as she stood up. "Sebastian, this is Cuchulain." The hound sat down and extended a large paw. Bass couldn't help but smile and 'shake hands'. "That stew gone yet?"

"Actually, yes." There was the aroma of roasting meat and baking bread on the air. She pointed towards a long structure in the center of the settlement and they started that way. As they rounded the side of the bath house marked 'boys' the door came open and a several lithe, small figures came running out. They held up to keep from running into them before continuing. Bass looked behind him as the door opened again to expel some more boys. Ahead he saw several young girls, presumably coming from the other side of the structure. "How many kids are there?"

"Current count is nineteen from six to eleven, twenty-four from twelve to fifteen, fourteen from sixteen to nineteen and twenty-two infants to five." She pointed out the various buildings. "The dorms are divided by ages, though five and unders stay in the main house, with couples with their own residences or their parents, if they were born here."

"Where am I staying?"

"Graduate housing. If we want out own place after nineteen, we can. Everyone chips in to help build it, but most don't bother unless they're settling down with someone. Most us stay in one of those two." She pointed out the two long structures with multiple external doors marking the different apartments. "The one on the left is for Graduates and the other is for the rest of the grownups."

"Graduates?"

She shrugged. "Hard to explain, but that's the local term for those of us who have decided on a certain field of study." She held out her right hand and he saw the tattoo of the back of her hand and leading up her arm to vanish beneath her sleeve. "We all have these. We act as the town guard, head up trade expeditions and pitch in with lessons for the little ones. Everyone gets the same education thru age eleven. After that, most children decide if they want to go graduate or study something else."

"What's the basic education?"

"Math, natural sciences, languages, English, Latin, Spanish and Old Irish with literacy in all."

Bass blinked. That was impressive. "After that?"

She shrugged. "Whatever you want." They had reached the central building, the scent of food and clamor of voices pouring from inside. The interior had long tables of polished wood. Children sat at the ones nearest the kitchen but most of the adults already there were seated farther away. He saw Hauk with several people he had never met but who carried themselves with the same dangerous air. First Platoon of Georgia's Wolf Company.

Charlotte lead him over to the serving tables. Her hound padded over to where several others were being fed by one of the two large stone hearths that served as both sources of heat and a place for large iron kettles hanging from iron arms. As he helped himself to roasted venison, corn on the cob, carrots and green beans. Charlotte snagged one of the small bread loaves and some butter for them and asked him to grab a couple of mugs. They made their way to one of the tables, a bit away from Hal and his crew. 

"Water, milk or ale?"

"You have to ask?"

She smiled and nodded her head to large kegs resting on stands along the back wall. "Fill them over there." 

He left his piste with her and filled the mugs from the kegs. The beer was room temperature, but it was more of an old world brew. Those were meant to be drunk warm, and it had more flavor than the pre-Blackout stuff mass produced by the big companies. "Outstanding." He knew he'd want more. "One of those field of study wouldn't be brewing, would it?"

She grinned as she broke the loaf of bread and handed him a half. "And distilling. The elders are Irish, after all."

Bass dug into his food as he looked around the building. The floor was bare earth but smooth. The walls were carefully planed wood planks fitted so close together he couldn't see any gap in the seams. Celtic knot work decorated the door and window frames. There were fighting staves and decorated shields decorating the walls. The building had two rooms, the large main area where they were gathered for the evening meal and the kitchen which he could see thru the large doorway. The entire place had a historical feel to it, as though he'd somehow gone back in time to the days of war chieftains and heroes.

"This is a strange place." He looked over at the long tables where the kids were. A few of the older children were trying yo keep the younger ones under control with the help of a couple of adults. "It's like...part Viking village, part orphanage."

She chuckled. "Close. They didn't mean for this to happen, but they kept finding kids who were orphaned or otherwise displaced by the chaos following the Blackout. Teaching them and establishing a routine was the best way to handle it all. Now those of us found first and the older kids help with the younger ones, and we've got children of our own mixed in with the foundlings."

"I can't believe we never found this place."

"We're good at hiding. We didn't need you, after all. We can take care of ourselves." Her eyes went up to the door. Bass looked over his shoulder and saw three young men come through. All three wore clothing like his, though theirs didn't have sleeves. Two were white and the third was black, but he suspected the third had the same tattoos the first two bore. The same markings Charlotte bore. Graduates. And pissed off from the look of them.

"They don't look happy."

"None of are, not at the moment."

He turned around and looked at her questioningly. "What's got you upset?"

She met his eyes. "Someone used nukes. Someone burned the Earth." He could almost taste the anger and revulsion in her words. "We take that sort of thing personally."

Bass consider asking more, but there was something in her expression that made him think better of it. He'd need to learn more about these people before he pried further.

Seconds were allowed, even encouraged for the kids. As more adults, both those with the Graduate tats and those without, came in from their various jobs, the kids were gradually shepherded out by age. The sixteen to nineteens were the most vocal against this, trying to wheedle a later bedtime as kids had done since the beginning of time. One of the Graduates gave in to their requests for a story before being shuffled off to their rooms, going so far as to step up onto a table so that everyone could see him. By this time Bass was on his third mug of ale and his belly was pleasantly full from good food.

"All right. Atticus isn't here so I'll tell this one. The story of how he gained possession of the legendary sword, Fragarach."

Bass remembered the somewhat unsettling feeling of being held in place by the sword, and how it made you tell the full truth of whatever question posed. He leaned back against the table and listened as the young man spun a tale of a massive battle long ago where Irish gods tried to influence the lives of men and how a would-be king lost his grip on the sword when his hands became too slick with the blood of his enemies. If the story was to be believed, Atticus picked up the sword at the behest of a goddess. The Irish goddess of death, apparently. There was a stand off between gods over the blade and who would keep it, but a death goddess trumps a love god, and Atticus exited the field thru the enemy army with his prize.

The kids ate it up. Bass had his doubts about the tale, but a look over the gathering made him think most of these people believed it. He turned back around to lean on the ramble and caught Charlie's eyes. "You realize that would make this Atticus guy older than dirt, right?"

She smirked. "Maybe, if you're lucky, one day you'll get to hear the story about how he managed to pull that off as well."

She was serious. What was this place? Some kind of bizarre cult? "So where is Atticus? I haven't seen him since he and Hal questioned me."

"He took off with Coyote. There's something going down in his territory and he asked Atticus to help out. Something about a gold vein that needs to be moved and convincing bandits to go elsewhere."

Bass was going to ask how they intended to move a vein of gold short of just mining it, but a young man with Graduate markings plopped down next to her.

"Charlie, my favorite girl."

"No." 

"I haven't even asked yet!"

"You don't have to. You're up on the scholastic rotation."

The man gave her a pleading look. "You love botany."

"So do you. You just dislike putting up with kids under twelve. You realize you used to be one, right?"

Bass hid his smirk in his mug.

"Come on, switch with me. You hate blacksmithing anyway."

She shook her head. "Can't. I've got to keep an eye on him." She nodded at him. "Aiden, this is Sebastian Monroe. Bass, this is Aiden, our resident man whore."

"Hey!" Aiden gave her a hurt expression. "That's hardly nice."

"And you wanting the blacksmith rotation has nothing to do with those red headed twins?"

"Not entirely."

Bass cracked up, setting his mug down before he spilled his drink and created a minor catastrophe. There was a comfortable connection between the two, like siblings. He supposed all of these kids were like siblings, being raised together like they were. "It's good to meet you, Aiden."

"You, too. Sorry to hear they're trying to pin those nukes on you." The flicker of anger he'd seen in Charlie passed thru Aiden's eyes.

" You believe it wasn't me."

"Not even you would have nuked your own city. Besides, Atticus questioned you about it."

There was that. "I don't suppose anyone has an idea who was behind it. I mean, Flynn wasn't working alone." The two young people exchanged a look. "What?"

Charlie rolled her shoulders. "They claim they're the US government, say they've been holed up down in Cuba all this time."

Aiden snorted. "Because 'warlords like Sebastian Monroe' chased them out. Most of the people aren't stopping long enough yo think, or they'd remember the government bugged out long before the Monroe Militia came into being."

Bass couldn't help but be somewhat impressed. "So you guys are actually trained to think. That's a hard lesson to pull off."

Aiden smirked. "Yeah, we're good at that." Something caught his eye and his expression turned speculative. "I gotta go. Welcome to An Garran." He got up and hurried across the room. Bass followed him and saw him sidle up to a pair of pretty red heads with identical faces. The boy had good taste.


End file.
